Seduced by the Blues: Fox Cove Mystery, #1

CHAPTER ONE

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Life sucks.

The chirping of the microwave broke through my brain fog, bringing me back into the present, into the apartment I shared with my roommate, Lilli. I turned away from the window I had been staring out of, away from the view of the small backyard and the cars parked behind it. I hadn’t really been noticing any of it anyway.

I shuffled over and opened the microwave door, taking out my coffee mug filled with warmed creamer, then poured hot coffee from the pot that had been set the night before to brew at 6 AM. I sighed as I sat down at the little two-seat counter and let the steam from the coffee drift over my face as I closed my eyes. That’s how Lilli found me when she walked in a few minutes later.

You’re up early, she said as she reached for a coffee mug. If I were you, I’d be sleeping in.

And if I were you, I’d still have a job, I couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I opened my eyes and met her sleepy gaze.

She squinted her eyes at me as she took her flavored creamer out of the fridge, heated it, and mixed it in her coffee. She didn’t say anything else, just frowned as she fixed her coffee, put the creamer back, then came and sat next to me. We sat there, sipping coffee until she set hers down on the counter and turned to me.

It sucks, I know, she said as if she had read my mind from moments ago. She forced me to set my coffee mug down. She grabbed my hands and squeezed them gently, making me look at her. I really do know, De. I was laid off my first year out of college. Budget cuts, they suck.

Yep, I said, and they suck even more when you’re almost thirty. But I’m OK, Lilli, or at least I will be. Just let me wallow for a little while.

Uh-uh, you wallowed all weekend, and Monday, and Tuesday. It’s a bad habit with you, and as your best friend, I’m shutting it down. It’s time to update your resume, update your LinkedIn profile, and update your hair style for goodness sake. This horse tail braid has got to go, she said, smiling as she tugged on my hair.

"Ow, that is attached to my head! What’s wrong with my braid?" I whined.

Nothing, if you’re going to head out west and take up ranching, she teased. But come on, Deana, don’t you think it’s time to let this go? If you want long hair, that’s fine, but all you do is put it up in a ponytail or braid.

Well, that’s easier to work with, I whined.

Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean, and you know I’m right. She grabbed her mug and headed out of the kitchen and back to her room. I made a face at her back and frowned as I sipped my coffee and went back to staring into space.

I saw that! Lilli shot back before she shut her bedroom door.

I knew she was right, at least about my moping. I had to stop feeling sorry for myself. Yes, it sucked that after almost six years working with the Philadelphia Library Cooperative, I had been laid off due to budget cuts and branch mergers. And it wasn’t great that it had happened just as I was thinking that I had gained enough experience, as first a library assistant and then a cataloger, that I could begin applying for a management position. But technically, I guess I was still in my twenties, even if it was only for three more months, and the twenties were about growth and finding yourself, right? So technically, I still had three months to get my life together again.

I groaned as I put my head in my hands. Who was I kidding? I was thirty, almost, and jobless.

This sucked.

After Lilli left for work, I finally took a shower and got dressed. I had been living in my pjs and sweats for four days. I supposed it was time for real clothes. I decided to try clearing my head with a little old-fashioned exercise, so I grabbed my bike from the shed in the backyard.

Thankfully, it was a cool but sunny day. Spring in Pennsylvania could be anywhere between freezing temps with snow to mid-80s with sunny days and humidity. Most of the trees in the neighborhood were looking hopeful that the weather would stay warm. The dogwoods that I rode past had blooms covering their limbs and the oaks and maples and other trees that I didn’t know the names of had small leaves beginning to fill in along their branches. It felt good to feel my legs moving with the bike pedals, the breeze feathering the loose bits of my hair, and the bright sunshine warming my back. By the time I got to the section of the bike trail near Mt. Moriah Cemetery I almost felt like smiling.

After I finished my ride, I walked my bike back up along Brick Street. The shops, boutiques, bars, and cafes catered mostly to locals but were eclectic enough that they drew a fair number of tourists as well. I was just passing the window of Lacy’s Salon when I looked in and caught the eye of the woman at the front desk. She was on the phone but smiled and waved at me. I waved back and kept walking, but then stopped. I fingered my braid, which had gotten a little messy from my bike ride, and then before I could talk myself out of it I locked my bike to the closest bike rack, walked back and opened the salon door.

Hi. Welcome to Lacy’s, the same woman I had seen from outside said to me. She was off the phone now and gave me the same friendly smile. Do you have an appointment?

No. Are you taking walk-ins? I asked. I didn’t know if I was hoping she’d say yes or no. If she said no then I could just leave and tell myself I had tried, but obviously wasn’t meant to get a haircut. If she said yes, then what? My entire life would change — because of a haircut?

Of course, she said, still smiling. If you’ll take a seat, I’ll see who’s available. It might be a few minutes. She looked down at what I assumed was a schedule book in front of her on the desk, then typed a few keys on the computer keyboard.

Melissa will be able to see you in about five minutes, she said as the phone rang. She took the call, then a minute later said, I’ll take you back and get your hair washed now. Are you ready?

OK, I said, getting back up.

It looks like you’ve been out bike riding, she said as she got me seated at the wash bowl, placed a towel around my neck, and tipped my head back."

Yes, it seemed like a good day for it.

I haven’t been on a bike in ages. My boyfriend and I used to ride all of the time. We stopped after he hurt his knee. It’s always the knees that get messed up, have you noticed?

She continued talking about her boyfriend’s knee injury, their holiday trip they were planning to take, and her present nursing studies. I mostly listened, interjecting a few times if she asked me a question, but not really sharing very much. I’ve never been good at small talk. It’s probably why I prefer reading a book to sitting with friends in a bar or restaurant — or maybe reading the book is why I’m not good at small talk?

An hour later I walked out of the salon with a shorter head of hair and a bag of styling products. Andrea, the very friendly front desk-hair washer had talked me into a hot oil treatment after seeing the amount of split ends I possessed, then had talked me into buying a couple of treatment packs to use at home. As I left the salon, I stuck the salon bag into the small backpack I had brought with me, collected my bike from the bike rack, and headed home. 

Lilli found me in the kitchen when she got home from work. I was pulling wine and cheese out of the fridge, so she didn’t actually see me until I closed the door. She was talking on her cell. From her side of the conversation, it sounded to me like it was her sister, Rose, on the phone. When she saw me, she screamed and ran the rest of the way towards me.

Oh my God! You look amazing! she yelled, picking up the ends of my newly styled hair. After the hair stylist, Melissa, talked to me about what I wanted, she unwound my braid and then cut six inches off the end. Once she was sure I wasn’t going to run screaming from the salon she continued, checking with me before each additional cut of the new length. The result was a haircut that came just below my shoulders, with enough length to still put up in a ponytail or twist, maybe even a very short braid. I had been playing with the ends and swinging my hair back and forth since I got home, surprised by how much lighter the weight of it felt and how freely it swung whenever I moved. 

What? No, we’re fine, Lilli said into her phone, but you should see De. She got a haircut! What? Oh, that’s a great idea. OK, I’ll let you know. She hung up, looked at me again and then gave me a hug, holding out the hair on the sides of my head. I’m so proud of you, she said. This is such a huge step for you.

It’s just a haircut, Lilli, I said, downplaying what had been an emotional experience for me and swatting her hand away as she tried to grab my hair again.

I poured two glasses of wine and then started slicing the cheese I had set out on the cheese board. Lilli took one of the glasses and handed me the other, making me set aside the slicer.

To Deana Weber, her new hair, and her new life. May it take her far and teach her much. And may her hair never reach her butt again. She held up her glass and tipped it until it clinked against mine.

Cheers, I said as I laughed. You’re a little nuts.

All the best psychologists are, she responded and then took a drink.

I finished slicing cheese, put it away and took out a few slices of prosciutto, rolling and adding them to the cheese board. Lilli grabbed a jar of olives and then she and I sat at the counter with our wine and ate. Some evenings if we ate together, we chose snack meals like this instead of a full meal. Other times we pulled out milk and cereal, or just bypassed it all and went for a pint of ice cream.

Was that Rose on the phone? I asked.

Uh-huh, Lilli said as she munched. She wants us to come over on Friday for a movie night, and maybe shopping on Saturday. We could sleep over if you want. Franklin and the kids are at his parents until Saturday night, so she’s excited for some grown-up girls time.

I’ll check my schedule, I said sarcastically.

Lilli chuckled. Sarcasm, huh, must be the next emotional phase after wallowing.

Is that your clinical opinion, Doctor?

Yes, I’m completing a study. I’m calling it The Pre-Midlife Crisis Anomaly.

By Friday I had managed to update my resume and networking profile and had even cleaned out my closet a little. I had two bags of gently used clothes to drop off at the secondhand store, plus another full trash bag of old makeup, magazines, and worn-out shoes that was on its way to the dump. Lilli had talked me into the movie night with her twin sister, Rose, followed by brunch and shopping on Saturday. Rose was an elementary teacher with two kids, a husband and a cat. She had one of those idyllic lives in the city suburbs that Lilli and I equally made fun of and also secretly envied.

We got to Rose’s just as her husband, Franklin, was driving off with the kids. We waved to him and walked into the house. Rose was mixing sangria in the kitchen. She already had a huge bowl of popcorn made.

Hello, hello, Lilli sung as we walked in.

Oh, thank God you’re here, Rose sighed. I have needed some time off from kids for weeks. This pitcher was looking very good. If you hadn’t shown up, I would have given serious thought to drinking it all myself.

We can’t have that, Lilli teased. I’d have to call mom and dad and explain to them that their daughter is a lush.

As if, Rose shot back. We both know who the wino is in this family.

Lilli stuck her tongue out at her